flick, flick, flicker
thick, thick, thicker
lick, lick, lick-her
^..^
Squirrel sonorously screams something suddenly, "AHHHHHHHHH!" She stirs, "What the fuck!" Squirrel sits upright on the stone, paw to his chest, "I, saw myself." "Clearly?" she asks. "Yes," Squirrel admits. "Holy fuck," she whispers.
^..^
"No. It's not that the grass is greener. It's that the grass looks greener," the wind carries a voice. Squirrel perks up and nudges her, "Do you hear that?" "Nooo," she scoffs, sarcastic. They stand, Squirrel upon the stone, she upon the shore, to meet friend or foe.
^..^
It's not like, three big mountain peaks. It's more like one large mountain peak that's eroding, and so there are three tips to the one big peak. There's another place, though, where multiple peaks meet, and I thought of this place not so long ago after learning about what beavers are, what they do. And it was because of this learning about beavers that I realized something about this other place where there are multiple peaks to which I could be referring when referring to the place where three peaks meet, and the thing that I realized is that there's a small lake at the base of the valley at the top of which is this other place where multiple peaks meet, and for my entire life, I knew that there was a family of beavers who lived in that lake, because everyone knew, because that was the feature of that lake, and so, what I realized is that that lake was beaver-made by that family of beavers!
This just opens the floodgates to questions about beavers. Like, seriously, what the fuck. If you want to talk about the things that shape things as we know them, beavers are high up on that list of interesting world-builders, etc.
^..^
Water is a tired metaphor.
^..^
Some emotions can be ridden into the past.
The future is not a place to which one ought to jump. The future is best-had at the speed at which you consider time to be passing "normally," etc. Think about it. If you jump to the future, you're skipping over time, and in that time things will have unfolded that you will not know about, thus, you are specifically thrusting yourself into an unknown situation, ill-equipped and not-prepared. It's a total loser's situation. Only a fool would jump/skip-travel to the future. When traveling to the past, however, you know a lot more than the people in that past. You're over-equipped to exist in the past. Only a complete narcissist would travel to the past.
To the past, travel on! But don't linger.
When someone arrives to you via the future, what's the one best question to ask to be convinced?
^..^
Wrapping my mind around the idea of fire is becoming increasingly more difficult.
^..^
Zooooooiit! "Goddammit, Ladybug!" Squirrel shouts as Ladybug zips around the little campsite she and Squirrel have set up, chuckling; "AH!" Squirrel screams as you approach. "What the fuck?" she scampers atop the stone with Squirrel at the sight of you.
"Calm down," Ladybug dismisses with both top arms as it finds a desirable landing spot.
"Why the fuck you bringing a Linger-er, here, Lady?!" she and Squirrel shout simultaneously. "You think this was my choice?" Ladybug gestures in your direction. "Ugh!" she and Squirrel scorn.
A gust of wind blows by. She and Squirrel settle down on the ground as Ladybug zooms over their heads onto the stone upon which they were squirming. "That's better," Ladybug smiles. "Fuck you, Lingerer," she and Squirrel sigh.
^..^
You ought to know better than to leave unused/unneeded lights on.
^..^
But why?
Must she die?
After every lie?
^..^
"Stories either exist outside of an economic reality, or the economic reality is the story," Squirrel pontificates with a puff. "Where did you get that?" she asks, aroused. Squirrel hands the pipe over. "There are lots of stories that exist within economic reality that have nothing to do with the economic reality of 'reality,' today," Ladybug contributes. "Oh yea?" Squirrel challenges. "Maybe," Ladybug suggests. She and Squirrel exchange eye-rolls.
She and Squirrel share puffs then pass the pipe to you.
"No," she points, angry, "Go back."
She and Squirrel share puffs then pass the pipe to you. "Yea, now go on, say the parts you left out," she goads.
"You hit the pipe," you state. "Good," she smiles as she reaches for the pipe.
"Leave the goddamn Lingerer alone," Ladybug pshts with all four top legs as it sits back on its haunches, tired, satisfied, ready for day. "Fuck you," Ladybug yawns.
The three fall asleep cuddled by the fire, backs against the stone. "Shut up," each of them groans independently, like drunk sailors.